“Hush now. Up wi’ ye then.” Coira pulled on her hands and led her across the room. “Up with yer arms. All we have left is yer overdress and belt. Then it’s down to the bailey and off to Master Tamhas’s croft.”
Thank goodness. Trulie rolled her shoulders and smoothed the heavy wool down around her waist. Who knew getting dressed could be such an ordeal? “Now are we ready?”
“Aye, Mistress,” Coira snorted out in an exasperated huff. “Ye are ready at last.”
* * *
“Once I wipeyer eyes with this poultice, the rest of yer sight should return.” Tamhas pressed a cool cloth, sticky with some sort of unimaginable glop, against her closed eyelids.
Ick. Trulie forced herself not to recoil. If the nastiness hastened the full return of her sight, she would tolerate a little slimy grossness. “Granny, you didn’t answer me. Did you know about what happened to Gray’s parents before we came here?”
The bench made of woven twine creaked with Granny’s slight weight as she settled down beside Trulie. “Somewhat,” Granny finally said. Her voice sounded cautious ... and guilty.
“Either you knew or you didn’t. There is no such thing assomewhatin a yes or no question. Is that why you brought me back here? To help solve the murder?”
Granny chuckled and replied with a vague “Perhaps.”
“Coira, are you still here?” Trulie wrapped her hands around the rough stick forming the frame of the flimsy bench and currently biting into the backs of her knees. “Coira, do not be a tease. You know I won’t be blind forever. Speak up.”
“Aye, m’lady. I am over here in the corner beside the worktable.” Coira’s voice sounded a bit strained.
Coira used the official m’lady. Who else was in Tamhas’s room? The only auras she had seen before her eyes were covered with slime belonged to Granny and Tamhas, and they cared little about servant versus mistress protocol. An uncomfortable twinge of foreboding plucked at her senses.
Trulie gripped the edge of the seat tighter, fighting against the urge to fling the tickling cold mess off her face and scan the room again. “Have you been able to find out anything? Did you have any luck with the questions I wanted you to ask around the keep?” She very much doubted Coira had discovered anything. Even without her eyesight, she had noticed how the other servants in the household had distanced themselves from Coira. They knew the girl was close to the Sinclairs and feared the advantage it gave her.
“Well ...” Coira’s voice trailed off. Rushes scattered across the dirt floor shuffled with the dry crunching rustle. The maid’s nervous cough interrupted the whisper of the dried grass. That nailed it. Coira had discovered something.
“Well, what?” Trulie waited. If she turned and faced Coira long enough, the girl would eventually spill all that was on her mind. Trulie could sense it.
“I am not so sure ’tis wise to repeat all I learned, m’lady. ’Tis about yer chieftain’s half-brother, Fearghal.”
“Well for one thing, he is notmychieftain. He belongs to Clan MacKenna.” Why would Coira say such a thing? Was Granny planting little plotting seeds again, even though she knew Trulie planned on returning to the future?
“Beggin’ yer pardon, m’lady.” The tone of Coira’s rapid-fire apology missed hitting true sincerity by just a hair. Trulie didn’t miss the note of tensed irritation in the pitch of Coira’s voice.
Trulie took a deep breath. Getting information out of the maid was like picking up a boulder with a pair of tweezers. Why was she acting so leery? “Please, Coira. Share what you heard about Fearghal.”
“Cook’s lad said the man is a cruel arse.” Coira’s hesitant voice bounced from all around the room. Apparently, she was either pacing or exploring as she spoke. Coira was as inquisitive as a cat.
“Dinna touch that!” Tamhas barked.
The sound of pottery breaking and a pungent odor told Trulie that Tamhas’s order came a second too late.
Coira coughed and gagged. “What was in that jar, master?”
“Fermented marsh salamander, if ye must know. Ye just ruined a month’s work. Stupid, clumsy girl.” Tamhas huffed out a muttered curse as he smeared another layer of ooze across Trulie’s eyelids. Globs of chilly sliminess snaked down one of her temples and dripped entirely too close to her ear.
Trulie cringed and batted Tamhas’s hand away. Blind or not, she did not want rotten lizard entrails smeared across her face. “No more and wash those nasty lizard guts off me right now, please.”
“Fermented marsh salamander doesna cure blindness. At least this spotted variety has never been found to have any effect.” Tamhas’s insulted tone conveyed quite clearly that he did not appreciate Trulie’s assumptions. “Have ye taught the lass nothing, Nia?”
Granny grabbed Trulie by the wrists and kept her from touching her face. “It’s herbs on your face, gal. Nothing more than simple herbs mixed with mud from the loch’s edge to speed along the clearing of your sight.”
Trulie relaxed back onto the woven bench. She wasn’t too sure about the mud part, and the goop still felt nasty, but she guessed she might as well go with it. “So, Gray has a half-brother who is an ass. Is he a lot older than Gray, or what? And why did no one tell me Gray’s father had been married more than once? That could have something to do with the murders. If Fearghal is the oldest son, shouldn’t he have inherited the job of chieftain instead of Gray?” Trulie mentally added Fearghal to the potential suspect list, along with a woman named Aileas. In the short time they had been at the keep, Trulie had already picked up on the fact that the servant girls loathed the woman and did their best to avoid her.
“Gray’s father loved only one woman in his life, and that was Gray’s mother.” Tamhas underscored this observation with a disgusted snort. “Unfortunately for all concerned, Gray’s mother, Isabeau, was never his father’s wife.”
Trulie understood completely now. Gray’s mother must have been the old chieftain’s mistress. She had read how some high-ranking men in this time provided for women who were not their wives. What was it they called them? Wiggling her nose against the slime trickling down one cheek, Trulie turned toward Tamhas. “Then how could Gray become chieftain if he was illegitimate?”
